


Stay Back

by depressedpotato



Category: Original Work, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Childhood Friends, Developing Relationship, F/M, Family Drama, First Time, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative, Relationship Study, Secret Identity, Secrets, Sex Pollen, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28717668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depressedpotato/pseuds/depressedpotato
Summary: The story of a friendship told through episodes around a reccuring phrase.
Relationships: Todoroki Shouto & Original Character(s), Todoroki Shouto/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	Stay Back

**Author's Note:**

> The chapter numbers and basically what happens are at the very end, should I have put them in here ? If you wanna see the chapters first please scroll to the end or go to Notes in the chapters (sidebar) or ctrl f it. Also some notes at the end to better explain. If the style changes abruptly from chapter to chapter it’s bc i tried to adapt to the evolution of their mentality. Basically a shitty relationship study i hate this omg i hate this so much.
> 
> keep in mind this is my world and basically my version of the characters. enjoy !!

**_Stay back_ **

There are some words you associate with people more than their meanings. Like colloquialisms you pick up from your friends after being with them for too long, collecting them like seashells on the beach until you have yourself a secret shoebox to hide under the bed. Words carrying the burden of memories rather than the length of their syllables. Taking shape with the years passing, sharpening their edges with hurt, joy or pride ; able to scratch deeper in your heart than a sword ever could.

**i.**

Hearing them for the first time, you don’t know how much of an impact it’ll have on you in ten years. But deep inside, where your soul twists a little and accommodates itself to empty up space for those words to fit in, you know, they are part of you as much as the person saying them. It happens when they’re both four. The first time. 

Pre-elementary school is daunting, but they’re already in their second year and he’s got Arai by his side to fend off the meanies even though they’re in different classes. The meanies aren’t the children, however, as many would tend to think. An older teacher, who isn’t very keen on the idea of heroes, even less on kids playing around with their quirks is the one this comment is aimed towards.

(Auntie Shiarashi taught him that comments like this in plural are much more tactful even if the target is a single person when he asked why she was referring to his father in plural. He thinks it’s a lot of thinking workload for something so simple, but he’ll have to learn eventually if he wants to be like Shiarashi in the future, so better get to work now.)

_ Wrinkled Lungs is scared of me _ , Arai confides to him as they’re sipping on juice during recess. Arakaze doesn’t refer to him with his name, ever.  _ Names are for those who deserve respect and they should be earned _ , she says,  _ he isn’t much different than an ugly toad who smokes too much in my eyes, so he doesn’t get to have a name. _ Shouto won’t admit he’s a bit starstruck, but then again, the way his best friend sees the world is much different than most ( _ she can’t see the sky but she can see what goes on in someone’s chest, it’s a secret!!) _ .

As for names, she uses her father’s for now, and maybe he’s a little indifferent because he’s never had to think about earning his title as a Todoroki, but everyone says it’s different for her, so it must be. _ Names carry a different meaning for bastards _ , an old lady told him once. He asked her what a bastard was, but she was whisked away by his father before she could answer. He shrugs, because he knows Arai’s right but doesn’t want to give her a point. Many people think Arakaze’s scary, but really, they should just take the time to get past her dead-fish stare. They have no reason to be. Arakaze only harms flies that are annoying. 

(All flies are annoying.)

So, when he sees the old geezer on the ground, crawling towards her feet, he’s paralyzed. It’s not like he didn’t hear the awful words he said, but all he wanted to do was to check on his friend, get her to come out, maybe cry on her shoulder later that night. Now it’s.... bloody. Blood coming out from everywhere, choking the man, making  _ him  _ choke on his own spit. Arai doesn’t look startled even though the man is dying.

_ This _ , he pauses,  _ this isn’t how things should be _ . 

He saw how a man died during a fire rescue in America with All Might. He saw his hero’s tears, rolling down his stained cheeks as he knelt before the limp body and held his hands tighter in a silent prayer. Right now, it’s not like that at all. Arai looks …  _ not sad _ . Almost gleeful. Her eyes are glistening with something he can’t identify yet, so grey, they’re almost translucent, like never before. It’s not her cheeks, but the floor that is stained with pink liquid, unholy as it makes its way towards her. A pathway between the teacher who is convulsing on the ground and the little girl who is standing with all her might. She seems in some sort of trance, even when he jumps over the unmoving arm and tugs her hand.

“Arai-” he attempts, when she turns towards him, his chest tightens. Their hands are still linked when the room fills with adults in a matter of seconds and this time, his chest tightens in a much uglier way. He sees the panic in their eyes. It’s never good when grownups panic, they tend to be unpredictable and unprepared. They panic, and the feeling is starting to seep under his skin like the smell of blood seeping in his clothes, smell like fear, everyone. Everyone except Arakaze, who calmly tugs him behind her back, and by gods he’s never been happier she’s taller than him, and squeezes their hands together. 

_ Stay back _ , she whispers only for him to hear without ever leaving her eyes from the body. 

_ Stay back _ .

And it sticks.

**ii.**

It sticks. 

It’s sticky. Whatever. Words are useless.  _ His fingertips are sticky from the spilled shot glass _ , the girl on his right provides.  _ The barmen offered you this one instead, _ the one on the left murmurs, sliding him a wobbling glass of gasoline.  _ Fuck if he’s ever drinking that again _ , he thinks, reaching for the drink to down it in one go. The alcohol in his veins is overheating him, and his thought process slows down, combined with the addicting bass, noticeably shaking the wall he leans against, granting him little room to hear himself, let alone the guy in front of him who’s jutting his hip in a manner that should be impossible, physically. __

__

_ Where is he ? _

The smell of tobacco burns his nostrils, even more so than the collective mix of overdosed cologne and burnt rubber and  _ oh _ , Shiarashi  _ hates  _ the smell of cigarettes even though she sometimes lits up rolled papers of strange mixes, her latest obsession is chamomile- Wait.

Better question :  _ Where is she ? _

The burning of his throat subsides a little when he gulps, clearing his head, if only symbolically. He’ll have to do with that. He remembers they came in together, strutting around too confidently in the shady streets in the middle of the night. His mother always told him not to trust the shadow falling in the dark, but Arakaze says that’s where the fun begins, and he’ll take her word over anyone’s else in the blink of an eye. Especially now, since he’s not a minor anymore : eighteen. And a few hours. 

It’s not how he imagined his birthday celebration throughout the years, now that he ponders over it. Prepubescent Shouto imagined a solemn celebration, maybe a third of a champagne flute his father allowed him, finally telling him,  _ good work, son _ .  _ (I’m proud, son, _ if he went too far in his fantasies.) A few snobby nobles gently patting his shoulder like a good dog, reminding him he looked so much like his father before leaving useless gifts and empty conversations behind them. 

Teenage Shouto had yearned for a small gathering between all the friends he made in 1-A, Bakugou finally admitting that the training courses served as a rite of passage for the unbreakable bond they forged. Perhaps Yaoyoruzu would even bring a bottle of wine she sneaked out from her mother’s pantry and they’d finish their little soirée at a sensible hour, bellies full and hearts even fuller. 

Right now, his head is full instead of his belly. _ Are you sure you wanna ditch them for tonight ? _ Arai had asked, fingers hovering over the doorknob. She was taking too long, so he took the matter in his own hands and opened the door himself, practically throwing them outside. She tugged on his jacket,  _ it’s not everyday you turn eighteen, y’know ? _ Insistent as always.  _ The party’s still the day after tomorrow, we’ll celebrate with them then _ , he’d replied.

He feels a hand creeping under his shirt, and  _ wow, _ are those boobs ?  _ Anyways _ , he shakes his head, he sees why his friends insisted on the party taking place on a Friday, because Wednesday is  _ definitely  _ not the new Friday. He turns his head to the other side, the whole floor turning with him. It’s like his vision is limited to vague shapes one second, only to hyper focus the next according to the DJ’s rhythm. He feels like he’s ice skating even though he’s firmly planted on his butt. Speaking butts, he’s met with one on direct eye level, clad in skinny, shiny leather.  _ I wonder if it can breath _ , he briefly muses, _ it’s so tight _ . 

Leather. Leather definitely reminds him of someone. He lets Boobs make him do a body shot between her chest. _ Holy moly, this one’s sweet _ . Where was he ? Ah yes. Leather. Arai was wearing a leather jacket when they came in. Together. But she’s not here ? He knows in the back of his mind that they were bickering as they were walking down this street after pregaming at the beach. It was funny, how the number one model student in the past was now bringing him to back alley bars and he had commented on it. She had frowned at that. He’d sensed a tirade over  _ circumstances  _ and  _ your mother did this to me _ coming and it was _ his night _ , he wasn’t letting something stupid ruining it, so he had quickly dodged.  _ Where were you for your eighteenth birthday _ , he had questioned, _ you disappeared _ .

She’d just smiled and he’d known her lips wouldn’t budge for the night. They looked like dead petals. He wonders if she put lipstick on, _ lipstick for him _ , a small part of him chants. Yeah, leather jacket and hair undyed, letting silver and brown meshed together, she looked like the secret she trusted to the twilight breeze.

Suddenly, he feels like he’s floating. He debates over whether the last shot was over his limit or if his hormones were on a rampage again, but he manages to look ahead without crossing his eyes, pats himself for the accomplishment and it turns out it’s just that someone is lifting him by the collar. The guy looks rather furious, but his nose is all red, so he only manages to look like an overworked and underpaid Rudolph. He boops the nose before he can stop himself. 

_ Wrong move. _

He can practically hear the video game music playing. Before he can register the sensation of flying, he lands back, surprisingly on his feet, making him appear more sober than he actually is. Sober people don’t feel the throb of their heartbeat under their fingertips, do they? Well, the rhythm underneath his ribs was more than a little erratic but it definitely hits the gas when a hand is placed right on his chest, pushing him back. Pushing him back but still holding his shirt, keeping him under arm’s reach. The hand’s owner turns around and throws him a look he knows he should be able to read. Under normal circumstances. 

“You. Stay back,” she grits out between her teeth. “Understood ?”

_ Shiarashi _ , he thinks.  _ It’s Shiarashi.  _ Only managing to nod, which was already a bad decision, because it sends Arai flying in his tunnel vision, he grips her hand.

“Who do you think you are ?” The angry deer yells at him over Arai, “Who do you think you are, staring at my boyfriend’s butt ?”

“I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding, he’s not like that... I swear ! He took a chastity vow ! A token good family boy, really, it’s just that he can’t differentiate between a potato flirting and-”

“Are you trying to imply my boyfriend cheated ??”

Oh oh, Angry Rudolph is fuming now.

“Honey, no,” the trophy boyfriend tries to intervene. 

The words are a little muted after that. The trophy boyfriend is Asphyxiated Butt, he realizes, a split second too late. Just as he prides himself over his intellect, the man throws a solid punch into Shiarashi’s face and he hears the sickening crack of her nose- or maybe it's hyper fixation on his behalf. It’s a bit silent then. He’s frozen by the sight of blood oozing out of her nose, an unruly tear making its way down her cheek.

From there on, it’s a blur of motion pictures. Mostly Shiarashi getting roughhoused while trying to shield him, kicking those men in places that should never be kicked, him refusing to let go of her left hand somewhy and further incapacitating her, her jacket getting torn while trying to dodge another punch, Asphyxiated Butt getting in the middle for no reason and getting his pants ripped, the owner of the bar kicking them out, half dragging Arakaze into a parc and laying her down, finding a fountain to clean caked blood on her chin. 

At least he’s sure about the mascara thing now _ (or was it lipstick ?)  _ because it’s running down her cheeks in black, long stripes of black and red and purple adorning her face. Tomorrow, the bruises will turn green. Tonight, it looks stunning under the fluorescent light, in a deranged sort of way.

“Why didn’t you do anything?!” She’s still holding her nose and her voice is coming in a ridiculously nasal tone, completely shattering his contemplation.

“You told me to stay back,” he unapologetically draws out. This time, she is the one who erupts into disbelieved laughter, quickly wincing so he interrupts her to distract from the pain.

“What ? I listened to you !”

  
  


**iii.**

“Why aren’t you listening to me?”

Her voice grits his eardrums, exasperation nearly palpable. He huffs out and hastens his pace, only out of pettiness, so she’ll have to speed up to catch up to him. He hears a grunt and a loud thunk behind him and he’d feel bad if it weren’t for the constant feeling of _ out of place _ in his heart. Shiarashi (because now, he can call her that) never grunts. Grunted. Well, ever since she came back from the temple, she does. It’s like her time in there, ( _ woah yet another mysterious place he’s not allowed in) _ , changed her, and not for the better like those training glow ups in movies. Besides, the hero always comes out of the training montage jacked up like his dad, but the only physical changes on Arakaze is that she’s even taller now, and her hair is leaning more on the silver side, only tufts of brown left. He knows her father is a bit bummed on the subject, but she doesn’t. He’s always been more attuned to other people’s emotions but Arai really acts insensitive now, not even bothering to check up. 

He wants his friend back.

“Look, Shouto-” she stumbles on a dead trunk,  _ good _ , at least longer limbs mean she’s even more uncoordinated now, “Shouto, wait ! They clearly told us to wait near the stalls, and this is definitely not in the allowed periphery, they’re gonna-” She can’t finish her sentence because a lower branch smacks her in the face.

So what if they’ve been told to wait ? Those who always follow orders rarely make good heroes, All Might says so-

“Are you doing this because of that All Might’s guide to the junior hero manual again ? You know it’s  _ bullshit- _ ” he gasps a little at the bad word. Auntie Kochi would most likely gut her if she heard her daughter saying such things “-he’s just a public figure for better relationships, it’s not like he does anything-” Shouto stops abruptly at that, causing her trip right into his back. Arai always used funny words, but now, it’s like she’s flaunting her know-it-all vocabulary left and right.

“Well at least,” he begins, hitting her chest with his finger, “At least, he’s good with people ! You can never be a good hero if you don’t like people !” He jabs. 

She opens her mouth, then closes it. It makes her look even more like a dead fish.

“That’s great.” She states calmly. “Good thing I don’t want to become a hero then.” 

He throws his hands in the air out of irritation and turns around, stomping his feet a little extra on the ground to let her know he’s annoyed. This isn’t how he imagined things going, this isn’t the perfect trip he dreamed of and planned in his head for a year. Last year’s annual summer trip to the temple mount wasn’t great, to say the least. He knows all noble families attend the festival, visiting their respective temples, paying honor to their ancestors but for children like them, it’s just a week-long camping trip. Last year wasn’t fun at all, since Arai couldn’t come, and his mother still made him play with Momo, who’s bossy. She wants to be the knight, and the princess, and the hero and he always has to be the bad dragon. When Arakaze was around, it was more fun since she was in charge of background effects, like making sure Momo’s hair flipped perfectly with the wind. This year, she hasn’t tried to approach them, her mother isn’t here either.

It’s a weird trip, even for the adults. He can feel the tension between them zapping his hair. So what if he wants to get away from them for a little ? Arakaze doesn’t sense those things like him, or if she does, she just turns a blind eye on them. She doesn’t appear to be particularly bothered by the constant turmoil their parents seem to have, his mother and her father constantly keeping his siblings away from the eye of the storm. Touya’s acting even moodier than usual and teenagers scare Shouto so he doesn’t approach him. Fuyumi has a crush on this  _ -person  _ ?- so his father is on his toes. And them being the two youngest, they’re left to play the role of a no man’s zone between Shiarashi and Todoroki. Other heroes or nobles they know aren’t much different, a looming shadow of uncertainty over their usually bright festival. He doesn’t  _ understand _ , but something’s going on.

“I think it’s normal. You’re behind for a seven year old. You don’t understand most things.” 

_ Ugh _ . Does she have to act like a smarty-pants all the time ?

“I’m not !” he pauses before adding, “And it’s seven and a half !” She rolls her eyes at that. Arai is an all or nothing kinda person, Uncle Yaseiyama explained, but he thinks it’s just because she’s lazy enough to not fuss over halves and quarters. 

“Come on. I just wanna see the lake. You like the lake !” He knows he hit the soft spot on her belly because she averts her eyes to make it look like she’s thinking about it when really, she’s just buying time. 

Arai has two kinds of weaknesses : promises to keep secrets and any body of water. This lake checks both criterias because it is their little secret, that his father oh-so-innocently shares with them, since he’s the one who showed it to them.

“Alright. But we have to be quick. And we return without additional stops.” He grins, ear to ear. It’s a good enough of a compromise, and he won’t get a better one, especially with how strangely uptight she’s being with rules lately. Shouto extends a hand in her direction, but she flinches. He doesn’t dwell on it, since she’s been like that since she got back. Still adjusting, his mother says.. Well, she better adapt faster. It's creepy when the adults start yelling and she gets this weird filter over her eyes, as if she’s hearing the words from one ear and letting them float away from the other. Arai stiffens too much, especially when criticized, and fidgets whenever her grandfather is mentioned. It’s like she takes three steps behind for every one he attempts.

Those thoughts entertain him as they reach the clearing, the trees growing thicker and more scarce. There’s no wind at all, which should’ve tipped him on something, if he weren’t mesmerized by the sight of the lake. It’s gorgeous, unmoving and dignified, a perfect bed for the sun to set, reflecting the diluted colors it leaves behind. A hazy orange contrasting with the green of the trees. He wants Arai to be able to see this so bad. 

“Do you… Can you see the lake ?” He turns around to observe her and his answer is already drawn on her face, mouth agape and brown eyes wide open. He smiles then, because it’s even more beautiful than whatever the stupid sky can ever offer. 

...Hold up. 

There’s still no wind. And yet, the eyes of his friend remain untainted with silver, brown holding it’s warm tone. This can only mean-

“- told you that’s  _ bullshit _ , Enji !”

_ Okay, _ maybe Auntie Kochi wouldn’t be so scandalized if she heard her daughter using that word. Great.

“What can I do, then Oh Great Kochi ? Tell me, please, enlighten me with your knowledge !” His father is making grand gestures as he walks towards the woman. “Show me how to un-make the truth !”

Shiarashi Kochi then growls,  _ growls  _ and pulls her father by the collar but doesn’t punch him, just waits like that. Shouto watches, transfixed by the sight. He has half a mind to make his presence known when Arai pulls him back to the nearest tree by the wrist, cutting off the circulation there. Indignant, he opens his mouth to shout, but it would appear his friend knows him too well, because she also covers his mouth and nose with her palm and he feels like he’s choking, but it could also be a trick of his mind and her quirk.

“Stay back”, she whisper-shouts. An order barked for a dog, and yet, he still scurries along to obey. That’s Arai for you, taking the reins with an unforgiving grip during critical moments. She does her part of the job in their dynamic duo with a sureness he envies.

“You think it’s not true for me ? You think I don’t love you ? Because it’s as big of a lie as your marriage !”

His eyes widen at those words, leaning on his side to catch a better glimpse of what’s going on the other side of the lake. Both his dad and Arai’s mum seem out of breath from yelling. He can only see Shiarashi Kochi’s eyes, but it’s enough, it’s enough to know-

“They’re in love ?” He looks at Arakaze to confirm her shocked silence, which quickly turns to resigned silence and then, determined silence.

“We didn’t see anything. We didn’t see anything, we didn’t hear anything and we won’t say anything, so don’t look.” She shuts her eyes too tightly for it to be effective. “Whatever you do, don’t look.”

He still does. Still attends a moment meant to to be erased in time and makes it immortal with his uninvited eyes. He’s only a spectator, a young and naive one at that, but he still knows that when silver and red tangle together, it forms the fiercest crimson he’s ever seen, too piercing for the soft combination of orange and green. 

A profanity in this divine moment, hand in hand until the very end.

A divine moment interrupted by Arai tugging his hand. 

“We have to keep this a secret.” He nods, because he knows. This will ruin their lives. Their parents are about to ruin everything and they can’t tip off the fragile balance already swaying dangerously.

“Speaking of secrets…. About my grandfather…” She takes a deep breath, grey filling up her irises.

“I have some things to say to you.”

  
  


**iv.**

“I have nothing to say to you !” 

Arai extends her arm at full length, waving a menacing finger in his face in a clever pretense to put a safe distance between them. He knows from her tone that she’s already set her beliefs into stone, put them six feet under and built a temple over them. Nevertheless, he pushes back. Because she’s Shiarashi and he’s Todoroki and this is what they do, he pushes back.

He’s seventeen and he’s angry. Angry at the world, angry at himself and angry at his father. Mostly angry at Shiarashi.

“All you do is to keep your mouth shut anyway ! It’s not like you do anything ! At all !” He spits the words out between clenched teeth and clenched fists, clenches himself into control.

“Well I refuse to ! I refuse to be used ! I refuse to be a pawn in your chess games !” She lashes out. 

Anger is often synonymous with regret. Not for him. He rarely ever gets angry. Been taught to numb his emotions, narrow them down to simple synaptic connections without consequences. Because anger is associated with fire and fire scares people which is not good. It’s not the same with Arai. Fire doesn’t scare Arai, so he’s free to get angry with her. Ice does, so tries not to be the diluted version of himself he offers to others.

Right now, he doesn’t have the luxury to ponder over his options. He’s bitter, in a way that burns his throat and scratches his insides to get out.

It’s the kind of anger making you see white, not even red. Like everything burned down already and you can only see the blinding light left. 

“There are none, Arakaze ! There are none, she just thinks she’s playing, she just makes up things on her own and then makes you eat them !” He’s basically screaming now, and he’s sure everyone in the dorms and the ten meter radius can hear them, if not feel the danger they’re exuding.

He can count the times he’s been like this in front of them in one hand. After all, even though they’re friends, family by choice and all, he still has control over which side to show them. And if he’s mostly been the composed and poised Todoroki Shouto his classmates have come to know, he can’t bear to play up his part when they're backstage.

It was different when they were children. Of course, everything was different when they were children. Arakaze trying to imitate the otherworldly aloofness of her mother, and him being free of those charges, a naturally free soul, rowdy and unafraid of speaking up, they were two sides of the same coin. No matter how you shape it, how you paint it, or where you choose to put it up as a decoration, the clay making up anger is the same.

As he grew up, he learned to be untouchable. Irritableness exposed him. So he learned how to smooth over his feathers with ice, learned to fake serenity so good he looked like he took a bunch of sedatives. The boiling kettle inside of him, he’d use it to make jasmine tea, another tranquilizer for his burning nerves. 

_ Keep it together, don’t be like your father. _

“She’s my best friend, Shouto. She’s my best friend, my first one and I value her more than anything !” In this case,  _ anything  _ is the nearest plushy animal that she throws to the floor. Not even the squeaky sound it makes as it wedges itself between the wall and the desk dissipates the tension building up in the room.

For her, anger meant survival in the sect. It’s her trigger, just like pride is for Bakugou or love is forKirishima. She doesn’t mind it, tough. In fact, Arakaze lets anger guide her through the moves, lets it annihilate whatever stands in her way and lets it teach her to be human. But that’s because she uses anger like a pacifier, as ironic as it sounds. Not for her, no. Shiarashi fabricates synthetic anger. A drug perfected throughout the years, bumps and rigs defined by observation, contents filled with pre-accumulated pain. Bares herself open and fakes sincerity, puts on the costume like a pro. Lets it light her up, lets it make her shine. What people see in the open, they don’t go for it, they don’t dig it. The same rules apply for anger. 

_ At least, that way, I get it out, _ she confessed to him at night on the roof. _ I’m angry and the whole world should know. M’not gonna be like the other noble assholes _ .

So she says

“Even when she emotionally manipulates you ?” Shouto jeers, lifting his chin a little higher in defiance.

Provoking someone has never been his forte, whatever others say. He’s only speaking the truth. Always honest, too honest, except with himself. He can’t be held accountable for other people taking offence. 

He can see how indignation is thrumming through her veins, like kerosene waiting to be lit.

“She doesn’t- she doesn’t do that, it’s on me anyway. Even if she does, why would it matter ?” 

_ Point for him _ . She can’t even look at his eyes and opts to stand behind the chair, shoulders squared up. “She’s the first person who called themselves my best friend, and I'll do anything to make her happy.” Her hands are moving at a pace his mind refuses to follow, but the rest of her body is unmoving, shoulders squared up.

She’s furious as well, and he can see it in the way she’s fuming, smoke coming out of her mouth. It’s temper heating her up, but it's a good thing. You want Shiarashi to hurl out her hurt instead of her stacking it all up, making another tally on her wall marked by small lines.

Holding your anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.

By now, she must be immune.

“You remember the promise we made, don’t you ?”

Summer. Heat. The soothing trickle of water beside them and the cooling touch of grass behind their backs. His eyes burning from the early morning sun and his breath being way too solemn for a six year old. Arai coming back from the temple the night before. Flashes of memories ingrained in a part of his brain he holds locked up. 

“What ? Yes, I - of course I do-”

“Well, I have no intention of breaking it. So make something else your truth ! Fuck, Todoroki, you know what you’ll have to do !”

This argument isn’t theirs. And yet, they’re continuing it like a dying family would put up a fight to revive their legacy. They’re only reviving old wounds passed down to them. Old wounds sticking to their skin, for too long now, so long that he doesn’t know where his flesh begins and where hurt ends.

Anger is lava burning his oesophagus, words bubbling up and deadly gas flaring from his nostrils. It all erupts when he opens his mouth. 

“You know what I think ? I think you’re so terrified of becoming like my old man, or  _ worse _ , your mother, that you’re going to end up like All Might. You’re gonna end up being a coward, a coward who only knows how to run away instead of facing the truth. Because that’s what you do best, isn’t it ?” It’s a powerful instinct, running away. Maybe it’s her only instinct. “You’re just like him !” 

He feels breathless by the end. All the oxygen sucked out of him, leaving him like an empty balloon, dizzy and useless.

The girl in front of him watches, jaw slacked and eyes wide. No matter how he paints it, his wrath is shaped like his father’s flames. Incoherent and ferocious. He burns his way out of the cage she drove him in, salts the wounds in the process. True anger for him is carnal and without an ounce of dignity. All consuming.

“I’m. I’m sorry. I went too far, Arai, I-”

“You think I enjoy this ?” Her voice breaks, “You think I’m perfectly content, letting history play itself out ? You think I don’t want to be selfish ?” Her words are only down to a whisper and he knows it’s all wrong, so wrong.

He makes a move towards her and she flinches. 

It’s a primal emotion. So one’s responses to anger are primal too. Fight or flight. Simple as that. Being with her allows him to fight, tooth and nails, to let electricity flow through his fingertips to open air, to charge the room to its brim and still get a response. But being with him, she feels obligated to flee and hide, bury the grief she masks with anger even deeper into the ground where the earth isolates all.

“Stay back.” She chokes out. 

He feels like he’s the one choking.

Real anger is cold for Arai. It’s the shard stuck in her vertebrae, it’s the scars on her body. Anger is outright giving up and pushing away. Rage for the girl who tried so hard not to be like her mother is putting the tone she mastered to good use. Anger is cold, and so is the concrete mask she’s inherited from her mother. This frustrates him too, how easily she can switch between her masks, even with him. In a matter of seconds, she reinforces her armor. From sparkling animosity dying to to exasperation, from bared teeth to the same dead fish eyes she’s had for years. An armature of nonchalance and a shield of stoicism, a tower holding everything together and holding everything locked down. She drinks shots of her poison, but only when her drinking companion is Shouto. 

She slams the door open on her way out.

  
  


**v.**

He slams the door open on his way out.

The silver car lined up in front of their porch isn’t a good omen. Bright cars are never signs of promising augures, whether it’s the glistening red of fire trucks or the dazzling white from ambulances. This one, gleaming under the midday sun, appears particularly tenebrous. 

He would understand if it were white, a good old police car. Their houses have seen many come and go over the past week, even after the disastrous visit to the police station. He understands Arai did something  _ bad,  _ and that it’s technically a crime, but the guy isn’t dead anyway, so why can’t they just let it go ? 

He felt suffocated in the kitchen where he was supposed to have his lunch, but the noodles were piping hot and it made his stomach churn. Besides, his seat has an open view of the shared front garden via the squeaky clean window, which causes him to fidget at the slightest movement he catches out of the corner of his eye. The light blinding him as the car parked was pretty hard to miss.

“Dad.” He tugs his father’s hand when he doesn’t get an immediate response. “Hey, Dad, who’s this ? Why are we waiting outside ?”

His questions are left unanswered but the man spares a glance down at him. Shouto immediately feels the consternation his eyes convey, especially with the way his chin is sticking out. He’s only seen it on TV, when he was fighting the bad guys with Auntie Shiarashi. Also when the big boss police tried to tell them Arakaze should go to child jail or something. Honestly, he just thought it was something Iida-san tried to make up to scare him into not eating her cookies. _ (He still did, and gave two to Arai) _ . Does this mean this is a bad guy ?

He tries to look where his father's chin is pointing at, but there’s no one. Right next to him, his father is bracing himself for some kind of impact, and it really doesn’t help him easing up. The tightening of his throat makes him crave a soothing presence, and he looks up for his mom, but she’s nowhere to be seen. These days, the adults in the house are not seen much anyways. He can hear them arguing at night in different combinations when they think he’s asleep in the other house with his siblings. It often ends up with Arakaze’s father trying to smooth over the tension, Shiarashi’s face sinking in even more and his father refusing to look at his mother in the face. She gives her all to cleaning, it's all she does, all day long. He’s never seen their house look so sterilized, like hospitals where they analyze sick bodies.

His siblings aren’t affected that much by the whole ordeal. Natsuo and Fuyumi are at their grandmother’s. Touya straight up refuses to go anywhere, and he sometimes sneaks into Arai's room with him and listens to their arguments. Afterwards, he refuses to train with Shiarashi.

He feels out of place. Like something is just not right, but he can’t put his finger on it. His entire being is screaming at him to call out for his best friend, to just stand beside her, whatever is going on be damned. Arakaze is  _ his  _ wall, and nobody is going to take her away from him, much less break her.

That’s what he tells himself as a man with long hair emerges from the adjacent house, its residents in tow. His hair is the same color as the car, rich silver shining like precious jewellery, and it might be from old age for the onlooker but Shouto knows. This is Auntie Kochi’s father, this is  _ Shiarashi Karakaze.  _ His very being radiates  _ imposing noble authority respect _ . His very being screams  _ danger  _ for Shouto, his knees going weaker by the second as the man floats further from the other door.

Shiarashi Karakaze doesn’t stop when he’s just in front of them, doesn’t even blink, looks right through his father. Speaking of him, his fists are already ablaze, urging Shouto to stand behind him and getting ready to pounce at once. This doesn’t reassure him. In a fight, against a Shiarashi, a Shiarashi who’s survived this long, he’s not sure who would come out as a victor. Even  _ he  _ knows that, and he’s  _ five _ .

Before his father can do anything, he’s stopped by a very stern  _ Enji, _ coming from Arakaze’s mother. Chest heaving rapidly, she crosses the distance between them fleetingly, latches on to his father’s other side. Whether she’s stopping him or holding on to him, none of them know. It’s always been like that, hasn’t it ? When it comes to life or death, it’s his father and Arai’s mother, head to head, side by side. They stick together, discussing something only they understand in interrupted and jumbled words, yet they pull through. Together. The two of them, Todoroki Enji and Shiarashi Kochi, they’re invincible. 

Now that his father’s left side isn’t empty anymore, he has nothing to fear. They’ll save him, save Arai-

Arai. What he hadn’t registered, between the flurry of emotions and sensory input, is Arai whom her grandfather is pulling by the wrist, pressing her to hurry.

When their eyes lock, the earth beneath his feet is gone. Her eyes are open wide, so wide. She’s crisping her entire face again, never breaking eye contact, it’s like she’s holding herself from screaming. Arakaze  _ is  _ screaming, he realizes. Hair a mess and breathing way too quickly, a wild animal captured by the wrist, yet refusing to open her mouth. She’s asking for help, so loudly, so why-

“Why aren’t you doing anything ?!” He shrieks more than necessary but at least it gets Auntie Kochi's attention. She looks at him, perplexed for a moment, like she doesn’t speak the same language. That’s when his veins start boiling, overruling the numbness of his hands. He shakes his father violently, hoping to wake him from the slumber he’s in.

“What are you waiting for ?! He’s taking Arai ! He’s taking her !”

It’s Auntie Kochi who stops him, lips thinned in a resigned silence. Her eyes are scornful, and he knows this is look n°3 for _ you need to shut up _ , but he can’t. How could he shut up when this  _ -this villain- _ is dragging Arakaze  _ -his best friend- _ over to his car, to kidnap her ? How could he just stand there and watch, like those two ? This isn’t what All Might would’ve done. No. No, so he has to move, he has to act.

Before his brain processes what he’s truly attempting, he already has a foot forward, escaping the colossal hand his father has on his shoulder by sheer force of will, then it’s an another foot in front of the other and now he’s running-

He’s running without comprehending what’s happening, but Arai does. She does, as always. So Arakaze raises her chin and grits her teeth and looks at him, head held high. She pretends she wasn’t trying to escape her grandfather’s hold mere seconds ago. Directly looks at him, eyes haunting. He doesn’t know yet, but this is a moment he’ll remember in most of his nightmares. She opens her mouth and his body is even faster at responding to her voice than it is to responding to his own.

“Stay back, idiot !” He stops, before even grasping her words consciously. Her eyes are still open wide, but she’s breathing through her nose now, because he can see the heated smoke coming out of her nostrils. “Stay back !” 

Arakaze means instinct. Arakaze means solid. Arakaze means trust. Arakaze holds her promises even if it costs her a bleeding knee or hours of sleep. And this is a silent one. She’ll be back. Arakaze will come back. Shouto trusts her more than anything. So he stays back. Because she needs an anchor to come back to, he stays back.

He watches on, a bit out of it. Sees the car rolling away, far away. Faintly hears his father ushering Auntie Kochi back in her house, feels his eldest brother gently pulling him by the shoulder and into the house, back into the kitchen where the odor of bleach is insupportable.

The noodles are cold.

**vi.**

The noodles are sizzling.

He hates them this way, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell this to All Might who’s bought them just for him, when he emptied the contents of his stomach near the eastern wall of the justice court. 

“Eat, boy.” He turns towards the hoard of cameras a bit further from the entrance then they are, bustling and pushing each other for a better spot, a better chance to flash the incomers. The ones they are also waiting for. “If your Shiarashi doesn’t know how to wield her tongue, we’ll be here for a long time.”

Your Shiarashi. 

Ever since the Sports Festival, it’s your Shiarashi, or your teammate or your friend. She’s  _ not _ . She’s not his  _ anything _ , let alone  _ his.  _ It was already weird for some older teachers to call him  _ Kochi  _ at times he spoke up too much, well, much more pleasant than having  _ Enji  _ thrown at him just because of his appearance at least, but now, they act like it’s the norm. Just because he’s Todoroki and she’s Shiarashi, they impose images on them, memories of the past they have to wear like shackles around their ankles. They were just Kaze and Shouto one night, secretly eating through the emergency ramen stash and then, the next, they became Todoroki Enji’s son and Shiarashi Kochi's daughter, Endeavour’s kids, the legacies.

He wonders whether Shiarashi’s death may have been a small blessing for him, removing a weight that  _ would’ve been _ from his shoulders. He grew up as Endeavour’s son, the one he raised to overthrow All Might, but in another world… In another, he would’ve been Endeavour's legacy, who had to keep up with Shiarashi and who had to surpass Endeavour’s records, who had to uphold their reputation. It’s easy, to be the N°2. However, when you’re on the top, you only have yourself to outperform, only the past to compare to. You bear the weight of your past accomplishments like boulders you have to roll even higher on the mountain.

Adults are expecting to fill the holes left in their souls. They’re expecting them to fall back into their old dynamics as though no event occurred in between. As though nearly a decade hadn’t passed by, as though Arakaze wasn’t presumed dead until a month ago, as though they’re still eight and ready to play with each other like kids. They’re not. At the very least, he’s not. She’s the very same girl who fooled her into thinking she was someone else, then tried to kill him for show and explained how his mother was the head of a secret organization without batting an eye. 

The same girl who secretly taught him the Shiarashi techniques was  _ -is- _ a Shiarashi.

He is forcibly pulled out of his musings when the cameras start flashing and the reporters start screaming. She’s here.

“Do you feel any remorse-”

“What can you say about-”

“Are you planning on doing the same as your-”

“Is your passionate youthful love-”

He drowns them out, after that. It’s not like he has any answers, isn’t even sure he wants them. He was about to die. She was there. That's all.

Unconsciously rubbing his wrists when he sees the handcuffs they’re pulling her with, there’s an ugly ball growing in his throat. She has to go through this again. Because of him. Again. 

Seibukish-sensei had already warned them, it was only a matter of time before the Elder Council would pounce, before they would start to ask questions, relentlessly, breathlessly. They had no alibi to do so then, Arakaze had made a smart move. But it would only take a slip, a toe out of the line before the lion’s jaw closed, trapping her. Not even two months of calm, he happened to be that slip, once again. And in the glimpse he provided, in that little crack through the wall, Shiarashi showed them her fangs, in the smooth curve of her blade slashing through the air, inches away from his neck, inches deep in the other man's. Where the others were frozen, she had thawed her way through the radio silence and gotten to him, before the Serpent Man could. Her first kill since the organization, the sect, whatever.

Her first kill, and once again, him.

Again, it’s him, watching on the sidelines and her, dragged by two guard dogs. Her hair shields her face, and he wants to shout, tell her to hold her head high,  _ chin the fuck up _ . But the camera flashes reflect on the silver-brown, and his voice dies down. Toshinori sensei’s hand on his neck is somehow heavier than his father’s ever was. She only raises her head once she’s out of shot, and he can see why : swollen cheek and purple moon on the left, she still has dignity to preserve on her intact lips and eyes. She’s untouchable. 

A fighter until the end. 

Intact eyes. That’s what he concentrates on. Intact eyes, intactful eye contact, and he makes a move again, ready to tear everything out on his way, to just reach, somehow reach-

Tactless eyes remind him of his place.

“Stay back,” she spits out. Before she can spit on his face for real, she’s swiftly pulled back by the bulldog on her right. 

Right there, he doesn’t see Shiarashi Arakaze, sixteen years old. 

He sees Arai, six years old, dragged around by two temple guards, hands on her shoulders too low and bruising where flesh was too soft. 

He doesn’t see Shiarashi, a cold blooded murderer who stands a little too proud. 

He sees his best fucking friend, who did the same thing when they were four years old just because a stupid teacher said they were  _ bred _ , and he sees Arai, five years old, hanging off of her grandfather’s tight grasp, brave mask on to affront the unknown. 

It’s still the same one. The same face where she crisps everything, and her lips are tilted up in a snarling smirk, clenching her fingers too much. The same one.

She speaks a lot after they make her sit in the middle of the conference table. Seibukishi is the one on her right now, and he’s the only one he trusts to get her out of there with her wrists on both sides of her torso. Not once does she back up, not once does she hesitate. She stumbles sometimes when she’s too hasty, but she continues.  _ Shiarashi Arakaze is dependable, _ her voice states.  _ Shiarashi Arakaze is stable. Here to stay. _ Not once does she break eye contact. There’s only one sentence he remembers throughout the whole press conference, throughout three hours, only one he bothers to nail down in his chest. 

“-I didn’t do it because he is a Todoroki, I did it because he is a person. Had anyone else been in the same situation, I wouldn’t have hesitated either. There’s nothing special about him. Maybe you should concentrate on training your-”

If her gaze is piercing, if it makes goosebumps erupt on his skin, he doesn’t let it show. After all, he’s still Todoroki Shouto, the same brave face his eight year old self wore at her funeral.

After all, he knows.

It’s a lie.

  
  


**vii.**

It’s a truth.

Between layers of distorted reality and mislead paths, there’s fabric in the back of her mind dishonesty can’t permeate.

Memories safely tucked under the bed, the ones she dissumules to visit in the privacy of her own covers, the ones she pretends to have blocked out-

They resurface. She still feels like the kid she was sometimes, and it’s irrefutable. It’s the reality of the past, her old certainties, conditioning her still. 

Perhaps the setting is helping in the superposition of two completely different timelines in one lifetime : 

One second, she’s the holder of the Wolf Mask, standard mission, different city, Hokkaido this time, and she’s pushing back an overzealous young boy out of the intervention scene.

The next, silence before the following tick, iode smell and seagull squawks align in her mind and she’s no longer there.

Instead, she’s Shiarashi Arakaze, eight years old and barefoot in the beaches of Shizuoka, valiantly standing between a crab and Shouto.

She brandishes her arm like a shield, protecting who only god knows, laughs and shrieks, but gets serious once another crab-woman emerges from the waves. Hesitantly advises to  _ stay back _ , turns around to signal him to go get an adult and-

And the spell breaks.

She feels it bone deep, so surely expecting mismatched eyes to stare right back at her that it’s utterly ridiculous that they’re not. It’s dizzying, like when you resurface after a huge wave and you’re completely lost, devoid of any sense of direction, where the shore is, where the sky ends, where you are. And to feel this disoriented just because the color of someone’s eyes don’t match the words she used, it’s, it’s..... infuriating. Heartbreaking in the hidden corner of her soul, if she were to ever admit it. 

She’s glad she’s wearing her mask, because no one should ever see the disappointed expression she’s has on, especially not the young boy who’s pinkish eyes  _ (so wrong)  _ look at her with such admiration. But she can’t conceal the look on her face, can’t mask her younger self from coming back to life. 

Doesn’t have the energy to, doesn’t want to. Doesn’t care anymore. After all, the stupid wolf mask shields her from confronting anyone’s curious eyes, especially herself in the mirror. Masks allow her to be a coward deep within, to deal with the lies she tells on herself on the daily to make others believe them.  _ I don’t remember home much anyway. I don’t know how I would react if I ever saw them again. My loyalty lies for the greater good, and the White Fox now.  _

She remembers. Remembers so well in fact, that two monosyllabic words let her time travel between experiences. It feels like she has already lived enough lifetimes to be lost in some of them even though she’s thirteen. She’s split in two planes of existence between the  _ Stay  _ and the  _ Back _ . 

Kaze is so shaken that she doesn’t register the boy tugging her arm, or her team captain effectively handling all the others, successfully cleaning up. He congratulates her for a job well done when she hasn’t moved an inch after the boy attached himself to her. Shouto would never do that. He was capable of looking after himself. Perhaps a bit disregarding of safety measures or a bit over enthusiastic for her phlegmatic nature, but he was competent. Looked after himself and Arakaze, guided and grounded both of them. Advanced fearlessly forward, ideals and goals clear in his head.

She wonders what he is like, right now. Wonders how he would react to seeing her, wonders how excited Touya would be to see her again, wonders if Fuyumi would begrudgingly admit to her being not so bad or if Natsuo would cross the road between not quite hate and not quite dislike. How would she react to seeing them ? How would their mother-

The mother hastily collects her child, the same pinkish eyes filled with worry. Kaze has no mother to worry about her. She has to do that for herself. If she were to go back now, Todoroki Rei would kill her, one way or another. Todoroki Rei wouldn’t set Koroshiya free, Todoroki Rei would win if they fought against each other. Shouto may have been imprudent, but some of her best assets were self awareness and judicious decisions. It is not time yet. She has much to learn, much to grow and much to perfect. She has to stay back for herself and stay alive for her mother.

Arakaze doesn’t ask permission to take a walk on the beach. The ocean gales are strong.

She has to be stronger, she decides. Sharper than nature’s most powerful winds, bolder than the roaring ocean. She decides, so she is. Where she’s stuck underwater, her quirk reaches the surface.

Everything stills.

  
  
  


**viii.**

Everything stills.

He bucks up underneath her, aligning their hips together. She’s hunched over him, weight mostly applied over his wrists -pinned up over his head- in order to hold his torso in place. 

Everything  _ was  _ still.

But he jerked, puncturing the soft status quo bubble enveloping them.

That’s not what anybody envisioned for their last Valentine’s day at highschool. The girls had prepared decorations, enrobing the halls in pink and white confetti. It was annoying when it got stuck to your skin, but otherwise, enjoyable. Lifting the spirits up, vanilla scent in the air, it allowed them a nice slowdown from their hectic schedule. 

But apparently, this villain didn’t get the memo.

It took them a stupidly long time to realize what their quirk was, and even longer to intervene. The yellow smoke dispersed through the air when they disappeared, and he thought this was just a machination for some kind of grandiose exit, but oh boy. He could say goodbye to the title of the World’s Greatest Detective. In his defence, all the others could too, because they all were in this lumbering trance, serenely inhaling the fumes when-

When Iida tried to kiss Present Mic.

It all went down hill, then. 

Students trying to jump each other, literally and figuratively, in the most random combinations, just trying to get it out of their system, flesh against flesh. He doesn’t want to know who’s doing what - _ or who _ . This is how they ended up here, when he just grabbed whoever was closest, Arakaze, in this case, before losing his mind, shoved them both in this unfrequented indent in the walls, sheltered from the others going crazy.

They were not going crazy. They were safe.

Still, she left nothing to chance, and pinned him to the ground immediately, securing her hold. They’re prepared for accidents. They practised. 

They’re not prepared for an accident of this magnitude.

Yet, improvising in desperate situations is something she’s good at, and keeping pace with her is something he’s even better at. He closed his eyes, concentrated on his own breathing, not hers,  _ especially not hers _ , and waited. For several minutes, he’d been doing fine. Just fine. No redflags, no prior warnings and now-

This is the sign. The first movement -he’s slowly losing control. Ascending in the inferno, his own, personalized room from hell. He’ll go there anyway, but right now, he just overtook the fast lane.

Collar too tight, he thinks he’s never felt so out of control. Feral with the pressing lack of body heat next to his, almost growling from the back of his throat but- He holds back. Immerses himself into the feeling again, because he  _ needs  _ contain himself more than he  _ needs- _

He feels it scalding, from the inside out. It’s nothing like his quirk, it’s -nothing like he’s ever experienced before. 

It’s only Arai.  _ AraiAraiArai _ . Arai and her messy hair, a few strands tickling his temples, breath warm, and flesh even warmer, Arai on top of him,  _ oh god _ , Shiarashi on top of him-

Something drips on his face.

It takes him more than a few beats to chase away the haze swamping his perception, before realizing it’s.. spit. It’s spit. On top of him, Arai is literally drooling, breathing heavily, mouth parted. She probably hasn’t swallowed in minutes and. And well. The knowledge that he isn’t the only one affected is such a fulfilling one that he is only mildly aware of how disgusting that is. Because Shiarashi is reduced to instinct as much as he is, perhaps even more so. It’s reassuring and- frightening. Extremely so. If neither of them are in the right mind, if neither one can pull the other from this pooling desire, then- They’re fucked. 

Alternatively, they’ll be fucking.

His eyes fly open.

Mouth slack and glassy eyed, pupils blown, so blown that he can barely distinguish the color changing, coming back and forth between grey and brown. She’s as conscious as he is, that is to say, not much. He can work with that. Has to work with that. But subconscious wins this battle, as he takes a hold of her wrists with his pinned hands, way too tight of a hold, they’re in a lockdown now. He bends his knees and plants his feet on the ground, and lifts his hips again-

Her breath hitches. Arakaze’s breath hitches and it's the greatest reward for such a sinful action, so he does it again, hikes up his legs, he does it again, and this time she honest to god  _ snarls _ , meets him halfway there and god,  _ this _ must be the best reward of his mortal life.

She leans further into his face, and he can see his reflection in her eyes, flushed up and sticky hair. It doesn’t matter. What matters are her knees, closing up on his upper body, clasping themselves into place, not to be budged. Brackets him in a solid, solid cage of Arakaze. She opens her mouth, closes it. Starts breathing faster. All the while, her hold on him doesn’t ease up for a second, resolutely keeping him on the ground. Keeping herself off of him. This means she’s still alert, still in her right mind. He has to catch up. Todoroki tries to shimmy his way out, but it only aggravates everything, it’s too hot and Shiarashi happens to have her mouth open-

Bravado finally cracking.

Her gloating voice breaks, for him, and he can’t help but to fantasize, how he’d like to break her, to just pin her against the rough wall and take her from behind, until the only coherent thought in her head turns to his name.

He could, do that. Easily. 

Could, throw her off of him, take her by the back of her knees and slam her back against concrete - and she’d let him. She’d let him do all of these things to her, and would raise the stakes higher, fight back. They’re Todoroki and Shiarashi after all, this is what they do. But she’d let him, because she’s in this animalistic, half conscious state, and even now, he can sense fear in her eyes. So he can’t. Because he respects her so much more than any kind of sex pollen in existence, knows her well, so well that he understands she wouldn’t want this.

Shiarashi Arakaze is afraid of herself, of him. Shiarashi Arakaze won’t step up and make a decision. He has to take the reins now. 

“Arai, go.” She shakes her head desperately. “GO. This isn’t about pride, this isn’t about cowardice. Alright ? Go.” He somehow fakes controlled confidence into his voice. He has to be their anchor. He has to stay awake, he has to endorse the hit right now. He has to hurt a little so she won’t hurt all her life. But right now, he has to take care of them both.

She jerks awake a little after that. Licks her lips and takes a deep breath.  _ Smart girl _ . It’s only when she releases it in a shudder that he realizes he said this out loud. But Arai is quick to get back on track, form a rough plan. 

“Okay,” she whispers. “Okay, we have to paralyze each other. Wait and- and sweat it out ? It's the- the only way we won’t try, if we’re not able to, we can’t-”

He’s made the right call. She’s terrified, terrified of him and of what he might do to her if he’s given an inch. This isn’t right, this is not them. He’d rather burn the pollen cell by cell out of his lungs rather than have Shiarashi look at her like that again. He has to be grounded to inspire trust. 

“You first. Bind my feet to the earth, then I'll freeze yours. Then you hold me down- Arakaze, you hear me ? You hold me down, and concentrate all of your energy on keeping me down.” They both know what he’s talking about. The oath will keep her from actually killing him. It’s a sound plan. It’s the only one they have. 

She nods, movements jerky, ungraceful. Stumbles when she’s trying to roll on the ground hesitates but picks herself back up. In the end, they manage. There’s a layer of earth on his legs, more lava than earth at this point from the friction and she’s glued to the ground, two steps away from him, ice up to her hips. The shard will hurt her, but she can endure.

Shiarashi starts crying when he tries to get up despite himself, and he doesn’t even know how he can still put two words coherently behind each other, but he knows he said something along the lines of  _ do it, do it now _ and she just shook her head, all the while taking control of his breathing, repeating _ stay back, stay back, stay back _ like a mantra to keep herself going.

He doesn’t remember much from after. His vision blurred from the lack of oxygen, but he also felt like he reached some kind of unattainable nirvana, colors brighter than their spectrum, shapes dancing to the rhythm of his heartbeat, so loud, ringing in his ears. 

He doesn’t know how much time they spend like this. At some point, a furiously blushing Tsuyu finds them, calls out for teachers to help dislodge them. He’s still lethargic, but he can  _ think  _ now. He eyes up Arai, then the rest of his classmates, is surprised to see they’re in worse shape. Nobody asks any questions, resigned respectful silence weirding him out more than the whole ordeal. There’s Shiarashi by his side, and it’s the only thing he can count on.

“Hey, do you think we’re the only ones who didn’t …?”

  
  
  


**xiv.**

"Hey, do you think we're the only ones who didn't…?"

"What ? Get the provisional hero license ?? You can't even say it, blondie ??"

Todoroki would like to point out that Bakugou's hair is much fairer than Camie's, but the argument would be fruitless. It's their third week in the remedial course and the subject has already been brought up five times.

He's enjoying their company more than he'd like to admit, even the pointless quarreling. He butts in sometimes, and those three don't look at him like he grew a third head for having a sense of humour. Yoarashi is easy to make laugh, loud in every sense of the word and Camie actually has a solid head on her shoulders when it comes to fighting, so she compensates. Bakugou is…fierce. He thinks he made colossal progress in terms of friendship thanks to this course.

"Who'dya think you are, Half and Half ? I ain't no friend of yours !"

Bakugou just has some issues when it comes to admitting they are closely knit now. Understable. Kirishima may be confused or jealous due to the nature of their relationship. Bakugou gives him the murderous look and Camie snickers. He's happy.

He actually feels weirdly at peace when he's with them, the sheer chaos they cause enough to noise cancel his own thoughts. Likes the way they slowly warmed up to each other, even him and Yoarashi, their occasional convenience store trips and listening to normal teenage conversations. In the midst of the storm of his first highschool year, he found refuge in the least unexpected place : the epicenter of his failures. No, that's his father speaking. He's got to shut him out. He physically shakes himself and looks ahead.

All in all, everything looks bright, maybe too much so. Ramen, training, friends, ice tea, All Might, grades, nice people… He doesn't deserve all of them at the same time. He's sure something's bound to pull him down, under the surface, but he's enjoying this too much right now to hold his breath just to be prepared when the moment comes. That's his first mistake.

He's fifteen years old when Yoarashi Inasa hollers at him,  _ Stay back, Todoroki _ .

He's fifteen, and he's about to have a crying fit in the middle of the arena during a practice match. It's the wrong intonation, the wrong accent, the wrong voice. It's the wrong person.

It's wrong.

He wonders what it would feel like, if it felt right.

What she would look like, fifteen and gloriously alive. Cheeks full, as always, eyebrows sharp, maybe. Would she have hair silver all over, like she cried for as a child ? Or would it be meshed as it was during her last years, brown slowly dying out on the tips ? Would her eyes still change colour as she switched elements ? It's weird to imagine. Having her standing by his side the whole time, solid and reliable and real. But she's not.

The ground just sways under him and collapses, or maybe those are his knees- all he knows is that his brain switches to autopilot. He somehow crawls out to the locker rooms, ignoring all the instructors' concerned intercalls. All he knows, is that he has got to get out of there, he has got to be alone. He's been alone since he was eight. Familiarity with the cold floor and weak legs, weaker stomach and exhausted heart, it's a sick sort of comfort.

He cried alone when his grandmother took on Fuyumi and Natsuo, leaving him with his father. When Touya decided to fuck it all and go and die. When his mother was gone. So he'll lie on the floor, and he'll cry alone here too.

Squinted red eyes, first thing he sees when he can actually breathe again.

Bakugou Katsuki. 

Of course  _ he  _ had to be the one to find him like this. He doesn't even have the energy to care about how he's gonna spread it to the entire school _ , Todoroki cried because the wrong person told him to stay back, _ let them fucking talk if they have the guts to. Figures, he would be the one to blast through the frozen door and crouch in front of him.

Bakugou. Shiarashi would've liked him, in all his explosive honesty and ambition. She would've gotten along with Tsuyu too, maybe even Midoriya if she got to know him enough. Or maybe not at all, and she'd have a blast with upperclassmen like Tatsuma or hang out with Fumikage, reading his obscure books and contemplating his shiny rock collection. He doesn't know.

Bakugou slaps him into consciousness. Yells at him about something that he can't comprehend. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spots Yoarashi in the corner, bawling his eyes out. If he were more present, he would have laughed at the sight. But the teacher is coming, yet another disappointed person in his life, one he  _ can  _ afford to disappoint. So he puts on the concrete mask Auntie Kochi took years to perfect with him and gets up, gets going. 

What would she do ? He'll never know.

She's gone.

  
  


**x.**

She’s gone.

There are whispers and speculations, there are theories and there are truths. Todoroki doesn’t know which ones to believe, which ones he can fit in the palm of his hand and which ones she left behind.

_ She doesn’t leave any notes behind. To all the people she told beforehand, she gave different explanations, so none of their stories add up. Disappearing, she has experience with. It’s easier for people to make up their reasons rather than to accept the truth. _

Dawn arises, and there’s no queasy feeling in his chest. They’re not binded by an oath anymore. He can’t predict danger like he used to, couldn’t predict such a leap of faith from such a down-to-earth person.

_ How long can a one way oath last anyway ? She carried her parents’ burden on her shoulders far too long. Shiarashi can rest now. Because Shiarashis chose their blood, and she finally made a choice on the docks.  _

They always knew she would be a revolutionary. But they never expected her to unleash her storm within herself. Never envisaged she would be strong enough to break a noble oath. If they asked Todoroki, they’d know. If she wanted to, she could kill every single one of them. The only reason she stayed in this goddamn school was the diploma. She got it.

_ The final prize she set her eyes on, the one thing she worked for, is nothing more than a wrinkled piece of paper in her backpack, along with a change of clothes. She has no more goals now. No, that’s not true. She has one more thing to accomplish. _

For all her bullshit about staying back, Shiarashi Arakaze never takes her own words seriously. Without an anchor, she may as well be a lonely feather, erring around the world at the mercy of the weather. She always had her back turned to the sun, wanting to go faster than its light.

_ She always told him to stay back, because she needed someone to return to, to ground her again. She no longer has the luxury of a return ticket. No one will stay back for her. Todoroki is no longer her safe harbor, and ships are not built to decay in harbors. She sails. _

It’s four in the morning when he runs to the docks, alone and disheveled. He might be a genius, he might be mad. It’s been four days, but he knows. It’s poetic, and it’s logic, and he should’ve known. It’s history repeating itself, it’s where they grew up and where they grew apart, it’s where all things began and where all things ended. It’s the ocean.

_ It’s four in the morning when the cook wakes her up, orders her sneak out before they discover her. It’s been four days, and the illegal fishing ship is accosting. Toshinori-san told her to go somewhere she already knew, but she’s sick and tired of the shackles of the past. She knows the sea, and that’s enough. Now, she’s ready, ready for Vladivostok. _

You are a coward, he fires to the sea.

_ I am free, the wind chants back. _

_ Her creation, transformation and destruction will be upon water. _

Stay Back, he pleads.

_ But that’s not his line. _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Read the last chapter with my tears are becoming a sea m83 especially 1:18
> 
> 1 : they’re four and she just tried to kill their teacher with Inoichi no Ibuki
> 
> 2 : they’re eighteen, and they get in a bar fight
> 
> 3 : they’re seven and they see something they shouldn’t
> 
> 4 : they’re seventeen and they’re arguing about a promise
> 
> 5 : they’re five and her grandfather is taking her to the Elder Council.
> 
> 6 : they’re sixteen and the Elder Council is about to interrogate her after she killed a villain
> 
> 7 : she’s thirteen and she just saved a little boy
> 
> 8 : they’re eighteen and the school gets hit by a sex pollen
> 
> 9 : he’s fifteen and in the remedial courses
> 
> 10 : they discover she ran away (told in both perspectives)
> 
> Even more notes ; 
> 
> The first chapter is a retelling of a scene depicted in water, the first time she openly uses the Breath of Life.  
> Chp 2 : where did she disappear ? in the synopsis ladies : she went with the marines even if the others don’t know it yet. I’m planning on doing a multi chapter fic on that, because it’s really a turning point for her. Would you be interested ?  
> Also no chastity wow. We all now his heart beats for broccoli boi.  
> Chp 3 : tension among nobles, you know why, and mention of the Yaoyorozu-Kopi divorce for the first time. What did she see in the temple ? should i spoil ? yeaa… she discovered how her mother’s oath was arranged, how her grandfathers were in love and all the family drama  
> Chp 4 : The promise they’re arguing about isn’t the one they made at seven yo. ;)  
> Chp 5 : this is the first time Arai is taken to the Elder Council now that she’s five and that it’s spring, to get her surname approved. She’ll leave the council as a Shiarashi.  
> Cjp6 : yknow in the synopsis, the part about her showing her true colors ? that’s the one. During a field mission, she kills a villain without hesitation, which prompts the media and elder families to believe she is not to be trusted and could present a threat to the community. They always knew that, but were waiting for an opening to pounce on her, which she gave them.


End file.
